we've moved.

To here. Thanks for following our tail.

The Mulberry bag. Scroll down to look at the Bayswater.

Why hiatus?

Well, one reason might be Mercury Retrograde.

We've been fiddling with the new site, and the communication of the old to the new has not exactly performed as was expected.

Faxes coming in twos? Attachments not attaching? Misinformation happening to you on a daily basis these days? That's Merc Retro.

Hiatus time, while we get settled into our new digs.

What, did you think that I'd post any sort of rubbish in the interim? Dream on...

Athena has two words for you....

and they are Sin City.

And maybe "woman-worship." If the Da Vinci Code didn't have any effect on you, maybe this film will.

more Tonic...

And a special congratulations to the Venue That Could: Tonic has reached it's $$ goal!!!! Hurrah!!! Now keep it in business by going to one of these shows (excuse me, Fab Five Freddy is calling on my cellphone) -

--Fri, Apr 01--
* Raz Mesinai, Zafir Tawil & Doug Wieselman at 8pm
* Shot'nez at 10pm
* Cookie Mongoloid plus Mark Growden at Midnight

--Sat, Apr 02--
* Benefit for Tonic: Tristan Perich plus The Wind Up Bird plus World plus Dirty
Projectors at 8pm
* Steven Bernstein's Millennial Territory Orchestra at Midnight

--Sun, Apr 03--
* Willem Breuker Kollektief at 8pm & 10pm

--Tue, Apr 05--
* Kneebody at 8pm
* Michael Attias, Mat Maneri, Anthony Coleman, John Hebert & Tom Rainey at 10pm

--Wed, Apr 06--
* Okkyung Lee, Shelley Burgon & Tim Barnes at 8pm
* David Watson, Lee Ranaldo & Tony Buck at 10pm

--Thu, Apr 07--
* Mark O'Leary, Jamie Saft & Kenny Wollesen at 8pm
* Antibalas Afrobeat Orchestra at 10pm & Midnight

The sun shines inside for these guys....

So apparently since the last time I've left the house, men have become far more attractive than women ever were. I've seen some pretty ladies in my day, but nothing like the visual assault that hit me up the other night. I was at a fundraiser for Manhattan borough president candidate Brian Ellner a few nights ago, which was held at DVF's showroom in the painfully hip meatpacking district. While jockeying for a drink alongside lawyers, fashionistas, and the campaign contributors who love them, a group of other-worldly male deities surrounded the bar, demanding white wine and radiating some sort of high-end energy seen on this planet only from raw-food enthusiasts. I mean, we are talking beyond immaculate. More than just Etro suits and Hermes ties, we're talking tinted moisturizer. We're talking Bliss oxygen facials. J.Lo had no glow on these motherfuckers. They may as well have hired a lighting crew to follow them around. They were so coy and smug and beautiful that I could do nothing but stare. My eyes started to sting from the glare, so I had to step away from duty and hit up the cheese plate. Good thing. As I was shamelessly slathering some liver onto a cracker, I looked up and saw, across the banquet table, the immortal, inimitable Diane Von Furstenburg. She was probably about 14,683 years old, and made of leather. And she was also absolutely gorgeous, the undeniable glory of the good life in every crack in her face. Absolutely stunning. I never see shit like this on the street, so I can't reconcile how these ethereal little Paul Smith politicos will weather into old Gucci crocodile handbags without rain or shine to erode the glow. Good for them. Maybe they'll spawn more shiny masses and I won't have to look at the same Williamsburg "one haircut fits all genders and levels of trust-fund depletion" chic that I've been subjected to for the past 10 years. Halston.....LIVES!!!!